


Day 6: Silent Night

by fantasybean



Series: 12 Days of Sherlockmas! [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bisexual John Watson, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas at Mrs Watson's, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasybean/pseuds/fantasybean
Summary: John drags Sherlock with him to his mum's for Christmas and the two have to share a bed. The intimacy of it forces their feelings for one another to surface.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: 12 Days of Sherlockmas! [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036677
Comments: 9
Kudos: 95





	Day 6: Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my 12 Days of Sherlockmas one-shots!

“And why do I have to come?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John as the man stirred his cup of tea.

“Because. Harry’s coming – so I need a buffer. If she gets drunk and ruins another Christmas I might just about explode. My mum is getting old now, and she hates it when we fight. I just want her to have a nice Christmas.”

“Really? You want _me_ to keep the peace?” Even Sherlock looked baffled at that.

“I know, I know.” John waved his look away “Aside from being able to assist in defusing me when, and track record shows it’ll be _when_ , I go mad at Harry’s behaviour… my mum and her friends all read my blog, and she really wants to meet you.” A flutter of butterflies flew through John’s belly. The thought of his mother wanting to meet his flatmate made him giddy in a way he didn’t want to over-analyse. Especially considering Sherlock didn’t seem to _do_ relationships.

Sherlock still didn’t look wholly convinced, though he did look partially flattered.

“Please, Sherlock. My closing argument is that Mrs Hudson is visiting her sister over Christmas and I don’t want to come back to a pile of rubble.”

Sherlock sighed, a little too dramatically for John’s liking, but nodded “At the least it’ll get Mycroft off my back, he always badgers me to visit Mummy and Daddy – it’s his turn this year.”

John grinned “Thanks.” He squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder as he walked past him, out of the kitchen to take a seat in the living room.

“Additionally, I very much am looking forward to meeting the woman that birthed you.” Sherlock remarked.

“Eugh! Sherlock – please don’t talk about my mother birthing me.”

“Why? It’s perfectly natural, John. You’re a Doctor, after all.” Sherlock frowned, leaning against the kitchen doorway and looking at his flatmate fondly.

“Yes, I know that - but add in the context of my own mother birthing me and it gets too much.” John rolled his eyes.

“Well. Your awkwardness aside, she’ll certainly be a fascinating woman! I wonder how much of your personality and looks are from her.”

John sighed softly “Well, if you’re so interested I’m sure she will crack open the family photo albums for you to have a look at my genetic line.”

“Brilliant!” Sherlock practically jumped for joy, much more on board with visiting John’s mother for Christmas than he was five minutes ago.

* * *

Two weeks later, on the 23rd of December, Sherlock and John arrived at John’s mother’s small bungalow. She lived on a fairly quiet street and was stood at the door as the cab pulled up on the pavement.

“Oh, brilliant. There’s the nose.” Sherlock grinned.

John huffed a laugh “The nose?”

“Yes. Your nose. It’s her nose. It’s very distinctive.” Sherlock opened the taxi door and stepped out gracefully, luggage in hand.

“…Distinctive?” John stumbled out after paying the driver, slinging his duffel bag over his good shoulder.

“Oh, don’t look so perturbed, John. I like your nose.” Sherlock said and strode towards the waving seventy-two-year-old woman.

“You like…?” there was the flutter of butterflies again as John stared after the man. He briefly raised a hand to touch his nose, then shook his head and followed the detective to hopefully stop him talking to his mother about noses and genetics before she even invited him over the threshold.

“Mum!” John cut in.

She paused in her conversation “Oh, John! You look well!” she pulled him into a tight hug “I was just talking to your lovely man about how tall he is!”

John blushed “My lovely man? He’s.. we’re just friends.”

“Oh, well,” she waved him off “Do come in. Harry isn’t here till tomorrow.” She welcomed them into her home. John had only visited a few times; she’d downsized after his father died but it still felt very homely. Mrs Watson was good at making things warm and comfortable.

After a brief tour of the home, mostly for Sherlock’s benefit, she showed them into the guest room “You’ll be here, if that’s alright.”

“Both of us? I can sleep on the sofa, mum.” John said as Sherlock put his suitcase down at the end of the bed, which was adorned with a duck egg blue duvet that looked so cosy all John wanted to do was face-plant into the thing.

“This house is too small for you to be parked up on the sofa. And with your shoulder, dear…”

John rubbed his old war wound, it didn’t bother him much – only when it rained or if he put too much pressure on it “It’s not that big a deal, mum…”

“I believe my legs might be too long for the sofa, John.” Sherlock interrupted “But I am amenable to sharing with you.”

“Uh… you sure?” John looked up at the man.

“Indeed. You’re not a snorer.” Sherlock smirked.

“I could be a snorer.”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen you sleeping.”

“Oh!” Mrs Watson tittered.

“Not like that, mum. He just… has no respect for boundaries.”

“Boundaries? John, it was simply an experiment over the course of a week on sleeping patterns. And –“

“We aren’t arguing about this again, Sherlock. But thank you, I’ll room with you.” He dumped the duffel on the bed and sat on the springy mattress “Where’s Harry gonna sleep tomorrow?”

“She’ll have to bunk in with me.” Mrs Watson smiled “Which will be nice, a girl’s sleepover!” she grinned “Let me go put the kettle on and make us some tea. You boys settle in.” she left the room in a flourish of merriment.

Sherlock took a minute to look around the room, picking up a few old, framed family photos.

“Is this your father?” Sherlock held up a picture of a young man with John’s more sterner features, such as his eyes.

“Yeah. He passed when I was in Afghanistan. I… I was on a mission and missed the funeral.” John played with a thread of the throw blanket beside him.

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t mind – being dead and all.” Sherlock dismissed, almost drawing a bewildered chuckle from John.

“Yes, well, Harry didn’t see it that way. And I do feel bad for not being there for mum.”

“Did they have a good relationship then? Your parents?”

“Off and on. Not as good as yours, I was surprised at how lovely your parents are together when I met them. But yeah… mine were fine. A few rough patches. But he looked after mum well, and she adored him. They mostly argued about me and Harry.”

“What about you and Harry?” Sherlock asked, picking up an old ornament.

“Harry’s alcoholism. Mum doesn’t like to acknowledge it and Dad was always a bit of a bulldozer when it came to things like that – he liked to tackle things head on. And Dad’s a big family man, so he never really understood me wanting to fly off to Afghanistan, or spend years living far away at uni training to be a Doctor when I could’ve done it close to home. Mum’s a bit of a secret adventurer though, so she fought my corner.” John smiled fondly.

“Interesting.” Sherlock said quietly, then began unpacking.

* * *

After a day of chatting, hearty food, and photo albums - in which Sherlock actually took a few pictures of his favourite photographs of John on his camera phone to keep for his own amusement – much to John’s dismay, they retired for the night.

The pair took turns in the bathroom preparing for bed and Sherlock was last out. John was lying in bed, on the left side, snuggled under the duvet and leafing through his most recent novella (he gave up reading anything longer than 1 or 200 pages a while ago).

“Ah, marvellous.” Sherlock announced as he swung into bed. They both wore soft pyjamas to keep them warm from the winter weather.

“What’s marvellous?” John rested his book against his chest.

“You are already on the side of the bed I’d prefer you to be.” Sherlock explained, resting his head into the big pillow.

“You, Sherlock Holmes, have a preferred side of the bed?” John asked incredulously.

Sherlock turned to look at John with a smirk “Why? What did you think?”

“That you star-fished in the middle, probably. Just as selfish unconscious as conscious.” John shrugged.

“Well, whether I move in my sleep is out of my control – but when I attempt to sleep, which you know I can struggle with – my preferred side is the right one.” Sherlock smiled and picked up his phone from the side table.

The two lay in relative silence as they read on their respective phone and book.

“Mind if I turn the light off?” John asked as he folded his book’s page over to mark it.

Sherlock looked at the time on his phone “Probably best. What time do we have to be up tomorrow?”

“Dunno, mum’s pretty relaxed – I don’t imagine she’ll mind if we have a bit of a lie in. But let’s be up by 9 in case she’s making breakfast. She’s a feeder.” John said as he switched his lamp off and plunged the room into darkness.

“Mmm, much like yourself.”

“What-I’m not a feeder!” John whispered.

“I beg to differ – you’re always trying to feed me.” John could hear the smirk in the man’s voice and suddenly felt the realisation dawn on him just how intimate this situation was. He could feel Sherlock’s warmth, could almost feel his breath in the air. Just a few inches that way and he could touch him.

John cleared his throat a tad awkwardly “Well… you forget to eat otherwise.” He shuffled around to get comfortable and sighed gratefully when he found the right position “Night, Sherlock.”

“Goodnight, John.” Sherlock said softly.

“Don’t watch me sleep… or experiment on me or anything.” John requested.

“Of course not, John.”

“Good.”

It took quite a while to drift off to sleep – John was too aware of Sherlock’s gentle breathing, and despite how soothing it was, it simply made John want to follow it to the Detective’s side of the bed. But he managed to keep his self-control in check and drift off half an hour or so later.

* * *

John woke up earlier than his alarm on Christmas Eve. And it was to a warmth wrapped around him from behind, a soft breath on his neck, legs tangled with his own. And the feeling of something distinctive pressed against his back. John tiredly registered that his own cock was straining against his pyjama bottoms and, half-asleep, wiggled a little so the cock behind him moved to press against the cleft of his arse.

A deep hum sounded from behind him and a face pressed further into his neck. Lips pressed softly against his pulse point.

“Mmm.. Sher…” John sighed and reached his hand down to twine with Sherlock’s that pressed against his stomach.

“John.” That ‘just woken up’ voice was sexier than John ever thought possible. So deep and grumbly.

Without much thought, simply moving with the moment, John turned around in Sherlock’s arms and was met with an equally semi-conscious but contented gaze. Their lips met and a breath left both men, a sigh of relief mixed with desperation.

Their kiss deepened as they woke up. Hands searched over bodies and tongues reached out to play with one another. They were tangled together under the large duvet, feeling hotter and more urgent as time passed.

“Oh Fuck-Sher…” John gasped, rolled them and pressed Sherlock into the mattress.

“John.” Sherlock wrapped his legs firmly around John’s waist and arched up into his touch.

“Morning, boys!” a high and happy voice burst through their bubble.

Both men’s eyes met in a comically wide look of shared shock. And just as the door was being pushed open they rolled apart.

“Oh!” Sherlock rolled too far and flailed as he fell over the edge of the bed.

“Sherlock!” John reached over and looked down to see the man he’d just been kissing in a heap on the floor “You alright?”

“Yep! Just fine, John!” Sherlock’s voice was much higher than it was a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry to startle you, boys.” Mrs Watson said from the doorway, looking a little shocked and worried.

“It’s quite alright, Mrs Watson.” Sherlock climbed back into bed, both men grateful their erections had made a quick retreat the second the kiss ended.

“I brought you some tea. I don’t know if John’s still the same, but when he was a teenager he could barely get out of bed without a cup of tea.” She smiled fondly “And it’s eight-thirty, I thought we could have breakfast together soon?”

“Sounds great, mum.” John smiled and took the tray of teas from her and placed it on his legs as he sat against the headboard beside Sherlock.

She left in a flourish and the room was plunged into silence as the door shut. Sherlock and John both sat beside one another in an awkward quiet.

“So…” John cleared his throat “…that just happened.”

“Yes.” Sherlock said quietly, took a cup from the tray and sipped the tea.

John opened his mouth to say something; it could’ve been a staunch denial of any seriousness about the morning’s kiss, it could’ve been a question of whether Sherlock wanted to do that again. But before he could even begin to decide which he would say his mum’s voice broke through “John, sorry sweetheart, can you come here and help me reach something from the top cupboard?”

John sent an apologetic smile to Sherlock, who was looking particularly vague considering only a minute ago he’d been gasping into John’s mouth.

“Coming, mum!” John put the tray on the side table and got up.

From behind him Sherlock commented “How your mother thinks you are the most useful person to reach things up high in this house, I’ll never know.”

John stopped and turned around, feeling tension ease off his shoulders “I’ll have you know I’m three inches taller than my mother.”

“And I have six inches on you. So let me know if you require my assistance.” The smug look on Sherlock’s face only elicited a middle-fingered response from John before he left.

John was grateful for the small stool his mother kept in the kitchen.

* * *

The trio shared breakfast in the small kitchen, Mrs Watson excitedly asking them about cases. John and Sherlock spent the meal mostly distracted by her questions and the food. As their plates cleared John said “I’ll wash up, mum. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” She smiled and squeezed his hand.

“When is Harry due to get here?” John asked as he collected the dishes, briefly brushing hands with Sherlock as he took his plate. The brush of fingers sent a tingle up John’s arm and the two locked eyes.

“I think mid-afternoon. You know her though, she’s a bit of a free spirit! So we’ll have to wait and see!”

Sherlock saw the frustrated look that fell over John’s face at mention of his sister’s ‘free spirit’ and gave Mrs Watson a fake smile to distract her from it “What’s the age difference between John and Harry?”

“Two years. She’s the older one. And just loves to boss our little John around.” Mrs Watson rolled her eyes fondly.

“I can sympathise with John.” Sherlock said, which got him an amused smile from John, who was now stood at the sink washing his dish.

“Really?” Mrs Watson raised a curious eyebrow.

“I have an older brother. He is particularly… bossy.”

“Bossy and interfering.” John added.

“Oh, John. It’s rude to insult someone else’s sibling.” Mrs Watson admonished.

“Oh, it’s quite alright Mrs Watson – my brother once kidnapped John and asked him for money to spy on me. So he’s allowed such a well-informed opinion.” Sherlock raised a peace-keeping hand.

“Kidnapped?” she asked incredulously.

“Nothing to worry about, mum!” John chimed in “Me and Mycroft are on… relatively decent terms now.”

“Indeed. He even bought him a Christmas present this year.” Sherlock added.

“That was on your behalf, Sherlock.” John said “You may not see eye to eye, but you care for one another – and he’s got you out of a few messes this year. It’s only right you give him a gift on Christmas.”

“Look at you, John – building bridges. Such a kind boy.” Mrs Watson smiled, delighted.

“I’m thirty-nine, mum. Hardly a boy.” John sighed.

“Don’t be silly, John. You’ll always be my boy.” Mrs Watson stood, patted his cheek as she passed, and left to have a morning shower.

John was scrubbing oil out of the frying pan when he felt a tall, warm presence appear stealthily at his side “You need a bell.”

“So I’ve been told.” Sherlock stood staring at him.

“Something you want, Sherlock?” John looked up at him and felt heat immediately flood southwards as he was met with Sherlock’s face, close, his eyes blown wide and his lips parted slightly.

“Yes.” Sherlock stated.

“A-and that is…?” John kept his eyes on Sherlock’s.

“To know what you want.” Sherlock stepped closer, if that was even possible, his chest now pressed against John’s side.

“I…”

They both seemed to move at the same time, mouths smashed together, hands pulled desperately at t-shirts.

“Are… are you… sure…?” John asked between kisses as he twined his fingers in Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock pulled back, staring into John’s eyes in a fond but calculating way “Am _I_ sure? What about you? Mr I’m-Not-Gay Watson?”

John huffed a laugh “Well, I’m not. I’m bisexual. And yes, I’m sure. Are you sure? Mr Relationships-Aren’t-Really-My-Area Holmes?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Oh is this a relationship already?” the corner of Sherlock’s mouth came up in a smirk and John stammered.

“Well… well I… Obviously we’ve only kissed twice… But-“

Sherlock put him out of his misery “John Watson, I wouldn’t be so foolish as to kiss you for a second time if I wasn’t serious. Your friendship means too much to me to risk it for anything less than a relationship.”

John felt as if Sherlock had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart just at the sheer sincerity and beauty of those words “Wow… Sherlock… That means a lot. And agreed. I mean… I’ve had feelings for a while. Didn’t want to act on them because I didn’t think you’d want to… but you do. Clearly. So…”

Sherlock smiled “So.” He leant down and kissed John’s lips.

“So.” John ran his tongue along Sherlock’s bottom lip then gently nipped at it.

They spent a few minutes stood in John’s mum’s kitchen. John’s wet hands had left marks on Sherlock’s back but neither cared, just enjoyed finally giving in to their desires.

“John. Question.” Sherlock said, pulling away again but keeping his arms around John’s back.

John looked up at his friend-boyfriend?- “Mhmm?”

“If we are to embark on a relationship. Which I think we should if you are amenable. Then would you like to tell your mother now? Or perhaps when you feel ready?”

“Oh. Uhh… Well, she knows I’m bi. And I don’t think this would come as a shock. But maybe… yeah, maybe we should keep it between us just for a little bit? Not because I’m ashamed. Hell no, as soon as we have had some time to ourselves to get used to this new thing between us, well – I’ll be proud to call you my partner in more than crime. I just… I just want to get comfortable with us first. I don’t fancy my mum asking me twenty questions about it when we’ve not even slept together.”

“Well, technically-“

“Sex, Sherlock.” John rolled his eyes then paused “If… if that’s what you want…”

“Was my cock against your back this morning not enough of a clue?” Sherlock whispered in his low rumble that sent blood straight towards John’s cock.

“Well…” John was surprised he had enough blood left to blush.

“I’m teasing you. That’s what we do? And what couples do, right? But it’s kind of you to ask. As you may be aware – I am not greatly experienced in that area of things. Or relationships generally. I’ve done things, of course. But as I grew older I realised I don’t fancy it unless it means something… on an emotional level.” Sherlock explained awkwardly.

“Well look at you, stood there having emotions for me. I’m flattered.” John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s lips and stood back a step to give them both a little breathing room “So. Just for the next two days let’s keep this private. But I tell you what – I think my mum really likes you. And she’s always hoped to see me with a serious partner. So when we do tell her she’ll be thrilled.” John turned back to the washing up and finished the last plate.

“Do you think?” Sherlock asked, almost bashfully.

“That she’ll be thrilled?”

“No. No, I know she will be thrilled – she’s mentioned Harry’s divorce three times and asked you if you’ve been dating twice. I know she wants you to settle down and be loved. I mean… do you think she likes me?”

A sad smile swept over John’s face – he was well aware that many people didn’t take to Sherlock upon first meeting him. The man had a very small circle of friends, most of whom he had gotten to know and be liked by after a period of time. John knew Sherlock could be standoffish and blunt, and a arrogant with his intelligence. But John had quickly found that beneath it all the man had a quiet kindness to him. And the sort of soul that deserved to be loved. It was a shame not everyone saw it, but John felt quite lucky and special to be one of the few that could be there for Sherlock. And one of the few that Sherlock let see behind all his bravado.

“Yes. She’s quite taken with you. I think she’s really enjoying all your questions about my childhood. She loves reminiscing.” He finally answered.

“You say questions. Some would say prying.” Sherlock chuckled.

“True, and though she doesn’t know about just how much we are coming to mean to one another. She does know you’re my friend, and I’m yours. So I’d say your interrogations are more questions than prying in her eyes.”

“John dear!” Mrs Watson returned to the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a lovely pink cardigan John had got her a few years ago.

“Yes, mum?” John turned to face her with a smile.

“Harry called. She says she just woke up. Will hopefully be here around 4. She’s getting the train – mind meeting her at the station for me later?”

“Of course, mum.” John nodded, left the last plate to drain and said “Have we got any plans between now and then?”

“Not really, dear. I’ve got some present wrapping to do.” She rubbed his arm as she passed him.

“I might go for a run.” He needed the fresh air. And perhaps a bit of time to think and adjust to the fact that he was now venturing into a relationship with Sherlock Holmes.

“That sounds like a good idea, darling. Will Sherlock be going with you?”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Mrs Watson. I rarely run unless chasing someone.” Sherlock smiled “I need a quick shower though.” He ducked out of the room and John watched him go, and not for the first time let his eyes fall to that tight backside that sauntered away.

“-John? Earth to John?” his mother called out, pulling him from his daydream.

John cleared his throat and blushed a deep red “Yes, mum?” he asked a little too quickly.

“You were staring into space. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, all good, mum.” He smiled and felt butterflies in his stomach at realising just how good he felt.

“Go on your run then, dear.”

* * *

At the five mile mark John looped back around and headed for home. He felt good. The crisp winter air felt nice against his hot skin, cooling him down with the sweat that dripped off his brow. His feet pounded the floor as he pushed further on, breath coming out in a fog.

“I’m back!” he called out as he toed his shoes off at the front porch.

“We’re in here!” his mum called back to him.

What a sight to behold – Sherlock and his mum were sat at the coffee table in the living room. Both with a cup of tea, Sherlock was helping her wrap her presents.

Sherlock looked up at John and smiled “I’m in charge of the tape.” He waved the roll.

“Careful now, Sherlock. That used to be my job.” John crossed his arms and leant against the arm of the sofa opposite the pair.

Sherlock smirked “Fight me.”

John cackled a laugh “I’m going for a shower.”

* * *

John was pulling his jeans on when the door to the guest room burst open and shut quickly.

“Fu-Sherlock!” John gasped, exasperated as he pulled his shirt into his chest.

“I’ve only got a minute – your mum thinks I’m in the bathroom.” Sherlock walked forward with his long-legged strides and pulled John into a kiss “Do you know how good you look after a run?”

John smiled between kisses and wrapped his hand around the back of Sherlock’s head.

Sherlock pulled back and gave John an almost admonishing look “I used to struggle to contain myself when you came back from a run at home. But now I know I can have you…” he dove down and kissed along John’s neck.

“Mmm…” John hummed “What is it that turns you on about it?” he sighed as Sherlock moved to the other side of his neck.

“You… hot and sweaty… wearing that tight shirt. I can see your muscles.” Sherlock stroked his hands down John’s chest appreciatively.

“Good to know. I can think of other ways to get hot and sweaty.” John pushed Sherlock down on the bed and straddled his hips. Realising where this was going, they stopped for a moment and looked at each other a little breathlessly.

“I want to continue this.” Sherlock said softly.

“Me too.” John smiled.

“But I am still on tape duty.”

“Ahh, a mission of ample importance.” John nodded seriously, leant down and pressed a kiss to his mouth. As their arousal dissipated they both settled into more of a cuddle.

“It is indeed.”

“Thank you, Sherlock.” John said quietly.

“What for?” Sherlock quirked his head curiously.

“For being so nice to my mum. I know you sometimes struggle to find the patience with ordinary people but-“

“She’s not ordinary, John.” Sherlock frowned.

“Really? I mean, I love my mum, of course I do, but she’s lived a fairly quiet life, keeps busy… But I dunno, she’s not a genius or a villain or-“

“People don’t have to be smart or evil to have my attention, John. They have to be interesting.”

“And my mum is interesting?”

“Yes. She brought you into the world. And she raised you.” Sherlock said.

“And I’m interesting?” John chuckled.

“Always.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons. You’re kind but stern. You are a Doctor who went to war. You’re homely but you’re an adventurer. You have so many brilliant attributes. You suit me and my life so well. When we met I felt comfortable with you incredibly quickly. I don’t… I don’t often get along with people that quickly.” Sherlock explained “Also I like your face. And your body.”

“Well.” John smiled and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead “You’re incredible. Meeting you saved my life. Saved it from mundanity.”

“Good. Now. Before this escalates into slow loving sex, let’s take a breath. I’ve got tape to stick.”

John climbed off of him and helped him up “Thanks, tape boy.”

* * *

John left Sherlock and his mother back at the house and took a short walk to the station, he was only waiting around for ten minutes before the train pulled in. Harry Watson hopped onto the platform, spotted John immediately, she scanned her ticket before running over to him.

“Johnny-boy!” she smiled.

“Hi, Harry!” he was pulled into a short hug “How’ve you been?”

“All good, little brother!” she pulled away and ruffled his hair “Mum said your flatmate is staying with us?”

They began their walk to the house, Harry’s arm looped through John’s “Yeah, his name is Sherlock. I’ve told you about him before.” He didn’t mention that most times he’d called her in the last year or so she’d been drunk. They didn’t need to start fighting already.

“Sherlock – right – don’t hear that kind of name very often. So, you bangin’ him?”

John’s face flushed red and he choked on his own tongue “Wha-Harry!”

“Oh come off it, John! He’s having Christmas dinner with our mum!”

“Yes, well, he’s my best friend. And he didn’t have any Christmas plans. Also, he has a habit of doing more dangerous experiments in our kitchen when I’m not there. So I dragged him along.”

“Experiments? I thought he was a detective?”

“Yes, well, he has hobbies.”

Harry hummed “So… is he nice?”

John rolled his eyes “Yes. But not to everybody. He’s a bit… standoffish, shall we say. Him and mum are getting along well, though.”

“Oh good, maybe she’ll give her blessing when you guys get married.” Harry snarked.

“Harry…” he sighed.

“I’m kidding. I get it. No more teasing.”

John sent her a thankful look as they rounded the corner to his mum’s home.

“Oh, my darling!” Mrs Watson greeted Harry with a big hug.

“Merry Christmas, mum!” Harry wrapped her up tightly back and Sherlock stood on the other side of them watching curiously.

When the two women went to the living room to catch up, Sherlock and John went about making them all a cup of tea in the kitchen.

“She’s not drunk.” Sherlock said quietly to John.

“Yeah… bloody miracle. Could you deduce anything…?”

“No signs of withdrawal so perhaps she’s been sober for a while now. When was the last time you spoke?”

“A few months ago. Wasn’t for long – she’d called me drunk.”

“Ah. I remember.”

“You remember?”

“You don’t shout often. So it was memorable.” Sherlock shrugged.

“I just hope she stays sober.” John sighed and leaned into Sherlock’s side a little.

“Indeed. My… my parents had to chuck me out about five Christmases ago. I visited, but I was high as a kite. Didn’t take them long to work it out.”

“Did they support you or…?”

“They did at the beginning. But the worse I got, as the years went by, I think they felt like every time they picked up the pieces or let me get away with it they were ‘giving a drunk a drink’, as it were. So they were trying to pull away in hopes I realised how much it upset them that I was abusing myself in such a way.” Sherlock explained “And maybe without their help I’d hit a kind of rock bottom that would turn me away from the path I was on.”

The two stood in silence for a moment before John finally said “You don’t talk about it much.”

“There’s not much to say. I was a junkie. Now I’m not.” Sherlock dismissed the conversation and John knew not to pry more. They’d have time to talk about that another day, in the comfort of their own home.

“Come on then.” John smiled at him as the two carried the mugs in to Mrs Watson and Harry.

* * *

The day went off without a hitch, which was shocking to all. Harry was blessedly sober and only sent a few harmless jokes John’s way. Nothing he couldn’t roll his eyes at. They ate dinner together and watched a few Christmas specials on TV. When the four retired to bed later on they were quite exhausted.

“Today was alright. Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” John asked from under the duvet as Sherlock pulled on his pyjamas.

“It’s been fine so far. I’ve never been that excited about Christmas.”

“I bet you didn’t even believe in Santa as a kid.”

“Of course not. I had that secret rumbled by the time I was five. So yes, it rather lost the magic once I knew he wasn’t real.” The man climbed into bed and scooted over close to John “Is this… is this alright?” he put his hand across John’s waist.

“Yeah. I’m a bit exhausted after today. Not used to socialising this much. Want to just… cuddle?” John felt embarrassed just saying the word.

“Cuddle?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“I know it sounds too cutesy for a man such as yourself…”

“That may be so. But okay. You’re an exception, John.” Sherlock snuggled up to John’s side, tucked his head into the man’s shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of the Doctor wrapping his arms around him.

“This is nice.” John yawned into Sherlock’s hair.

“Mmm.” Sherlock agreed.

“Night, Sher.”

“Goodnight, John.”

* * *

Waking up with Sherlock in his arms was a level of bliss John hadn’t known existed. It was warm and comforting. And the smell of home that exuded from Sherlock made him feel relaxed.

Sherlock was awake already, just enjoying being held by John while he scrolled on his phone.

“Mycroft wishes you Merry Christmas as congratulates us on our recent… development.”

“How does he know-… forget it, I’d rather not know.” John sighed.

They lay quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying the sweet silence before a busy day, trailing their hands up and down each other in a gently explorative touch.

“What time do you usually get up?” Sherlock asked as he clicked his phone off and put it on John’s bedside table.

“On Christmas Day? Uhh… probably around eight o’clock. We usually do presents then breakfast, then a walk, then Christmas dinner prep and eating. And then lounging around in front of the telly. We keep it quite lowkey.”

“Mmm… well, it’s seven-thirty now. Fancy a little… exploration?”

John raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help the smirk on his face and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Sounds good to me.” John pulled Sherlock fully on top of him and kissed him. Their tongues found each other, and hands languidly brushed up and down each other’s bodies. Shirts were hiked up as their abdomens pressed flush together.

“You… are so beautiful…” John whispered into Sherlock’s neck and the man sighed contentedly and grinded his half-hard cock against John’s own.

They moved together in a slow dance under the duvet, all lips and hands and cocks.

“Can I…” John tugged gently at Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms.

Sherlock nodded and continued to kiss him as John pushed Sherlock’s, and his own, bottoms down to free their leaking cocks. He wrapped his hands around them both and used their pre-cum to slick them up as he jacked them off.

They moaned softly into each other’s mouths and came together, cum spurting against both of their stomachs.

“Oh… Oh…” Sherlock whispered as he lowered himself down to lie on John.

“Fuck… yeah…” John gasped as their stomachs and cum pressed together. He wrapped his arms lazily around Sherlock’s back and breathed heavily.

“Merry Christmas, John.” Sherlock kissed his collarbone.

John giggled “Merry Christmas.”

* * *

They used their shirts to clean up the mess and as quietly as possible stepped across the hallway to the bathroom. They made quick work of cleaning themselves in the shower and brushed their teeth. With towels wrapped around their waists they snuck across the hallway once more.

“Well well well…” Harry Watson’s voice broke through their sneaking. The pair turned to the kitchen doorway to see her stood sipping a mug of tea and smirking “Have fun in there?”

“I uh… We were just…” John stammered.

“I’m not stupid, John.” She rolled her eyes “Why are you pretending you’re just friends?”

“Well… we were. Until yesterday.” John rubbed the back of his head.

“So this is new then?” she asked in surprise.

“Very. So... Could you just do me a favour and give me a little time before telling mum and everyone? We’re only just getting used to it ourselves.” John gave her those big pleading eyes.

“Fine. But you owe me and extra Christmas present next year.” She smiled and turned back to the kitchen.

John slouched in relief and pushed Sherlock back into their room.

* * *

Dressed for the day, Sherlock and John went to the living room to find Harry and Mrs Watson on the sofa waiting for them.

“There you two are! It’s a little late.” She admonished.

“Sorry mum, slept in.” John kissed her cheek and added “Merry Christmas.”

Sherlock put a few gift bags under the tree, ones John hadn’t even seen in his hands until that very moment. He had put his own gifts under there last night.

“Merry Christmas, both of you. Come on then, let’s do presents.” She smiled.

They spent the morning opening gifts, John had got Sherlock some science kit pieces that he didn’t have at home, which Sherlock was particularly excited by. And Sherlock had got John a soft blue jumper that was surely worth about 4 times any other item in John’s wardrobe, and a book on blogging.

“Thanks, Sherlock, these are great.” John smiled.

“Good. I’m glad. I… I’ve never had to get anyone presents before, so…” Sherlock trailed off and looked down at the science kit in his hands awkwardly.

John felt something inside him lift and simultaneously break at that. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, maybe it was the mulled wine from last night giving him a moment of impulsivity. But he stood up, marched to Sherlock in the armchair, pulled him up to stand and guided him into a kiss.

He ignored the small gasp of surprise and delight behind him and just breathed in the smell and taste of Sherlock before pulling away.

Sherlock looked aptly surprised but happy.

“Sorry… I just… thank you, Sherlock.” John smiled.

“Don’t be sorry.” Sherlock pulled him up for one extra peck then for a hug.

Once they pulled apart John’s mum dragged them both into a hug of her own “Oh, boys! I can’t say I’m truly surprised. But I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mum. It’s fairly new…” John said into her shoulder.

“Thank you, Mrs Watson.”

She pulled back, tapped both of their cheeks “Now. Who wants to make a start on breakfast?”

Harry and John offered to, and when they made their way to the kitchen she said “You still owe me an extra Christmas present.”

“What?” John frowned.

“I didn’t give away your little secret, you did. So, I’d love a bottle of Chanel number five next year.”

John sighed.

Sherlock was having a much better time, sat teaching Mrs Watson how to play chess with a board a neighbour had got her. She was a quick learner, so Sherlock enjoyed teaching her.

“You’re such a smart young man I bet you were playing chess when you were little.” She smiled and moved her pawn forward two spaces.

“Mmm… be careful, you’ve opened up a potential space for my bishop to move. And yes, I was playing chess with my brother from age four.”

“That’s impressive, did you get tested to see if you were a genius?” she pondered and did the same curious head tilt that John sometimes did.

“Yes, as well as other tests on my brain too. They were wondering why I wasn’t making friends.” Sherlock moved one of his pawns forward.

“Well, I don’t think they had to worry. From what John tells me you and he were fast friends the day you met.” She smiled.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his own lips “Well… John is exceptional. Don’t tell him that though, his head will get so big I might not be able to get him through the doorway at home.”

Mrs Watson laughed “Mum’s the word.” And mimed locking her lips.

* * *

“Thank you for coming with me, Sherlock.” John gripped his hand in the back of a cab as they pulled away from his mother’s home with a wave.

“Thank you for inviting me. It was certainly a worthwhile trip. Not least for seeing your baby pictures.” Sherlock bumped his arm against John’s teasingly.

“Yes, well perhaps next Christmas we will go to your parent’s. I’ll get a my own back.” John grinned.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hmm, wouldn’t I?”

Sherlock pouted and looked out the window for the rest of the journey. But he didn’t let go of John’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!  
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! :)


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